


very poor inspiration for a rom com

by weatheredlaw



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: M/M, goofy goofs being goofy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the record, spandex is, like, really hard to take care of -- In which Peter and Matt are established, Peter has a garlic dick, and there is a poor Kate Hudson impression being done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	very poor inspiration for a rom com

"Do you even _know_ how much your stupid Italian takeout is?" Matt holds up a finger, finishes listening to his voicemail. Peter scowls, strips out of the lycra and frowns. "There's marinara on this."

"How can you even tell?"

"I wear a very specific shade of red."

Matt huffs. "Indeed." Peter passes him the bag of garlic knots and a calzone (which is stupid calzones are really freaking stupid, Peter thinks) and then Matt is dragging him closer, presses his mouth to Peter's ear and says, "You don't have to bring me food. I like you either way."

"Coolio, M 'n M, but I'm not in the bribing business."

"No, you're in the 'always answers Murdock's phone calls' business."

"My ring tone for you is one of those songs from the Social Network soundtrack. You know how I feel about the Social Network soundtrack."

"I won't call then," Matt says, drawing back, "if you don't want to hear it so much."

Peter sighs. "Please don't make me go Kate Hudson. I'm not in the mood for schmoop."

Matt chides, "So crass," and moves his head to slide their lips together. Peter breathes out, opens his mouth. Here is an open space, a breathing space, and cooling and reheating space. Peter sometimes feels like a volcano turned inside out, spilling his guts and ash into the belly of the world, Matt's fingers knotted in the hem of his shirt, everything coughing up inside of him, around him, building islands between blood cells. "Thank you for dinner."

"Well, you know."

Matt nods. "I do."

 

 

Peter remember first times -- sideways kisses hanging off the edge of Avenger's Tower, Matt dropping hundreds of feet, knowing Peter would catch him, the first time Peter came because of him, the first time Peter peeled off the mask in front of him, the intent obvious and heavy and focused. 

"You have garlic breath," he mutters, slotting himself between Matt's legs and lowering his head, lips brushing his thigh. "Like, bad."

"You bought my dinner."

"And what I'm saying is it's _possible_ for you to take three seconds to brush your teeth before you give me garlic dick."

"Who said I was going to do anything about _your_ dick?"

"Wow." Peter lifts his head. "That's rude. I could leave. Right now."

Matt smiles, brushes the hair from Peter's forehead. "But you won't."

 _No_ , Peter thinks, loosening his jaw and swallowing Matt's cock half-way to the root. _I won't._

 

 

"I told you," Peter groans, "garlic dick." He feels Matt laugh against his belly, the heat of his forehead on Peter's stomach as he takes the head of his cock into his mouth. " _Oh_ okay. Okay." Two lube-wet fingers are working him open -- it's been over a month since they've been able to do this, everything upside down. Upset in the belly of the volcano. Peter feels like the ground is twisting up and out and over him, one long arc of dirt and roots for him to latch onto, grown out of one place and into this. 

"Easy does it," Matt says, just like he always does. Peter gasps, feels three fingers, and then four. Matt rolls onto his back. "Up, up."

"I hate you. Oh _god_ , I hate you so much." Peter's limps are jelly, but he knows why Matt likes him like this, why he likes _himself_ like this. It's like the perfect wire crossing, the way one lock fits into another as Peter lowers himself onto Matt's cock, sucks in a deep breath and groans. 

"Come on, you're alright. You're alright." 

"I can't sit up straight. I'm so tired." Matt chuckles. "Your dirty old man laugh is hardly endearing."

"Just as endearing as you, sweetcheeks." Peter has something to say to that, but he fucks himself down on the perfect angle, and his comes out strangled and desperate. Matt hisses. "Found it, _found it_ , jus' keep goin', keep goin'--"

"I--"

" _Pete_ \--"

Peter tumbles forward, Matt's hips flattening against his ass as he flattens his hands by his hand, grips the sheets and keeps moving, keeps pushing. This could be his favorite place, if he weren't so in love with the way his city looked from any perch he could find. And Matt's there more times than not these days, so really what the difference -- 

(here's the thing Peter will never tell, not _ever_ and it's that sometimes, he closes his eyes and sees the false starscape of New York and feels Matt fucking him and Matt kissing him and _Matt_ and he thinks that the perfect synthesis of the two is righ here, in his own head)

"Gotta come--" 

" _Do it_ ," Peter begs. "Just... _please_ \--"

"I know." Matt turns them over and rolls his hips, coming with his teeth bared against Peter's shoulder, everything angles and skin. Peter shudders, thinks that he doesn't want to come, he wants to hang on the precipice for another decade, right here on the edge is just fine than you so _very_ much -- "Your turn. Your turn, come on, do it for me. Let me feel, let me feel that." Matt brushes a thumb over the head of Peter's cock, curls his fingers around the shaft and lets Peter fuck his fist. Peter feels it like it's punched out of him, all green and red and orange and everything it never was when it was his own hand there. He wonders if he'll stop, if he'll come until he's coming dry -- 

"Clean up, it's okay."

He stops shaking. Matt lays a lukewarm cloth over his belly and Peter wipes himself clean, feeling everything deflate. Matt stretches out in bed next to him, tangles stray fingers in Peter's hair and sighs.

"Maybe next time bring Thai food."

Peter frowns. "Why, so I can have pad thai dick instead?"

"How you've ever managed to maintain any sort of relationship beyond a simple handshake is beyond me."

"Mmm, maybe the secret's not in shaking hands first. Maybe you take down a local crime syndicate together first or something." Peter pushes himself onto an elbow, drops a kiss on Matt's shoulder. "That's how all my best relationships start."

"Well, looks like you're on the right track."

Peter grins. "God, I hope so."


End file.
